


i'm so in my head

by younghos (doies)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Kinda, M/M, Pining, johnny and ten work for a magazine like popstar lol, johnny is a photographer and ten is a personality quiz writer, slowburn, the definitely maybe au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27417244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doies/pseuds/younghos
Summary: “Will you marry me?” Johnny’s voice cuts through the busy noises of the city, loud in the mess of a crowd below. He’s on his knees and Ten can’t help but wonder if they’re shivering under the thin fabric of his black dress pants.(alternatively: ten spends an entire year thinking about johnny)
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 27
Kudos: 245





	i'm so in my head

**Author's Note:**

> no proofreading we die like men
> 
> this fic was super loosely based on definitely, maybe!!! I've been ITCHING to write johnten in forever so we're finally here and i feel like i can finally retire from fic writing (im half joking)
> 
> i have NO IDEA how this clocked in at 12k but here we are
> 
> i will def come back to fix any grammatical error at some point but im honestly too buzzed rn on johnny's ponytail and the fact that i actually finished this fic to proofread to pls bear with me

“So do it.” Ten’s voice is teasing.

It’s almost midnight on New Year’s eve and Johnny’s managed to drag him away from the party below and on to the empty rooftop of their work building. The evening breeze brushes past him, sending a small chill each time, reminding Ten that being here isn’t the most ideal place to be on a night like this. The sky is an inky blanket, painted dimly with soft clouds and stars Ten can probably count with his fingers. (It’s really, the one thing about living in the city he’s come to detest.) Normally he doesn’t mind the rooftop rendezvous - it had always been his favourite place with Johnny - but he feels severely underdressed for one at that very moment.

(A glittering black sweater and a shiny silver jacket are good for the warmth of a pulsating crowd around him or a work party where heaters exist and _not_ for the somewhat scathing cold of the New York winter. To which he’s _certain_ a few people would turn their noses up and say _“It’s barely a chill.”_ but Ten is from Thailand. Sue him for not being used to anything but the sunshine.)

He and Johnny have discovered not too long ago that the building manager had never really bothered locking the door up. (Johnny had been prepared to jiggle it open as much as he could and Ten had offered to learn how to pick the lock if that had proved to be unsuccessful. Much to their dismay, neither skill had been needed as they’d pushed the old rusty door open to reveal the “restricted” rooftop hadn’t even been that restricted in the first place.) The rooftop had since become a safe haven for both of them of sorts -- one where they can both pick up on their absolutely unhealthy and terrible smoking habits together and not think about writing cheap personality quizzes to determine _Which White Male of the Month is Your Soulmate?_ (Ten) or plan the next celebrity photo spread for some bubble gum pop Disney star (Johnny).

It’s ideal. Neither of them really put much thought into the amount of time they spend there together. Ten mostly enjoys Johnny’s company, thinks the way his brown hair flops over his eyes is adorable if not mildly annoying to look at occasionally. He guesses Johnny feels the same.

“Will you marry me?” Johnny’s voice cuts through the busy noises of the city, loud in the mess of a crowd below. He’s on his knees and Ten can’t help but wonder if they’re shivering under the thin fabric of his black dress pants.

The ring is nestled in a bright red velvet box, glimmering as the diamond in the middle is illuminated by the glow of buildings and lights around them. It’s a pretty ring, there’s no doubt about that.

Ten shakes his head, arms crossed as a sly smile crosses his features. “No.” is his airy response.

The taller boy gets up, dusting himself for a moment before letting out a soft groan. “Bad?”

“Yeah.” Ten answers, pushing himself up onto the ledge. Johnny pads closer, leaning close next to him as he tries to think of a solution to the rejection.

Ten has never paid much attention as to how he’d like to get proposed to.

Which is to say, he’d never _actually_ thought about it before. It’s just always been one of those things he’s assumed he’d get to when it happens. He supposes he’d like it somewhere intimate -- a secret place shared by him and whoever it is he assumes would be the love of his life. Maybe he’d be fine with a little ring, nothing too ostentatious because Ten enjoys grand things but keeps his love in secret. Other than that, it’s not really something that haunts his day to day mostly because marriage has never been something that’s completely encompassed his thoughts.

He’d never expected the first time someone would ask him that question wasn’t even actually going to be for a proposal of his own.

“Ugh, what am I going to say?” Johnny huffs, head tilted to the side slightly as if in defeat. The ring is pushed back into his pocket. “Too simple?”

“How should the great Johnny Suh propose to his long-distance high school sweetheart tomorrow?” Ten taps a finger to his chin, looking thoughtfully up at the other boy who now stands before him. “Written by Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.”

This earns him a chuckle -- the musical kind that he’s often associated with Johnny. “I’m listening.”

“Should Johnny - A. Get down on one knee and just _ask_?” Ten raises a finger before him to which Johnny leans in, pretending as if he’s about to bite the tip before Ten pulls it away with a soft _tsk_. “That’s the bad option, _obviously_.”

“My mistake.” Johnny grins sheepishly, raising his hands up.

“B. Take his high school sweetheart to the most romantic spot in New York, Central Park probably, and propose with a grand gesture that blows him away and the crowd that’s to witness this momentous event?”

“B?”

Ten smacks his arm. Hard. “No, _asshole_.” He frowns. “Nobody likes public proposals. Unless you’re a celebrity or a _self-absorbed narcissist_.”

“Which _you_ are.” Johnny counters cheekily.

“Occasionally!” He exclaims just because he can. Though Johnny would be correct to assume so even if Ten would never really be the public proposal type because he’d rather throw up than to allow people to see him feel absolutely and genuinely euphoric over anything. (Assuming, of course, he’d get proposed to by someone he’d be completely in love with. Which is yet to happen.) “And of course, _I’m_ not Lee Taeyong... Future Suh.”

“Hopefully.” The other man’s fingers are crossed.

“ _Certainly_.” Johnny talks about Taeyong like the sun shines out of his _asshole_. Ten can only hope someone could ever talk about him that way in his life and that Taeyong probably speaks about Johnny the same way because who wouldn’t? Johnny Suh, ever-charming with his long legs and almost heinous posture that Ten found almost endearing and his silky laugh that made the dreary workdays more bearable as the hours tick.

Some days, Ten thinks, he could be a little bit in love with Johnny if he thought about it more. Which is probably why he doesn’t, really.

“So, C for Chittaphon?”

“C. Prepare something from the heart, something special, and private that caters to what Taeyong wants and what Johnny wants. Say more than ‘Marry me’ and don’t just think a pretty ring will cut it?”

This is met with silence as Johnny begins to pace before him, lost in thought for a few seconds before he snaps his fingers excitedly. “I’ve got it.”

“Go on then.” Ten gestures.

Johnny moves closer, taking Ten’s cold hands into his. (Big, slender fingers, that makes Ten’s palms look visibly smaller than he’s always thought them to be.) “Taeyong, I’ve always thought about what life would be like without your smile.” He begins and Ten exaggerates a wide and tightlipped smile that makes Johnny laugh. “You know I’m not the kind of person who thinks too much about the future -- you know I hate it. I hate the uncertainty and the dread it makes me feel but lately, that’s really all I’ve been thinking about.” Johnny pauses for effect, those warm brown eyes sinking into Ten’s gaze as if he’s incredibly enamoured by Ten. “Because I can’t imagine it without you. In a life full of uncertainties, you’ve only ever been the one I’ve been certain of. You’re the only smile I want to see on lazy mornings, the only hands I want to hold, and the only lips I want to keep kissing over and over and over.”

“Oh?”

“There’s no one else in the world that could compare to you, no one else I’m capable of loving more. Lee Taeyong, will you marry me, and will you allow me to think of a future with you?” His eyes sparkle when he asks this question and Ten pretends his heart isn’t beating wildly in his chest, threatening to jump out and scream a loud and resounding “ _Yes! Yes! Yes_!” for a proposal that isn’t even for him. The whole thing is punctuated by the whistle of fireworks behind him, crackling in the sky -- as if Johnny had planned this very moment to be illuminated by their colours shining brightly above them. He looks up in wonder and belatedly, Ten realizes, it’s midnight.

He looks at Johnny again, meets his gaze under the dazzling colours. Fireworks paint the world above them but Ten realizes that the hopeful look on Johnny’s face is the only thing making his stomach flutter tonight. “ _Maybe_.” He says instead, hoping the word doesn’t sound too choked out as he tries to process that their hands are still somewhat clasped together.

Johnny grins at him and it makes him a little dizzy with emotion. “I’ll take it.”

So maybe Ten is a little bit in love with Johnny.

* * *

**Me (5:30 pm)**  
_so???? HOW’D IT GO??_

**Me (5:30 pm)**  
_did my genius brain help you make the greatest proposal ever or what_

Ten doesn’t know why he chooses to torture himself for an answer. It’s not like he and Johnny share anymore more than cigarette breaks in the afternoons and the occasional lunches together when their schedules match, it’s not like Ten’s just kind of realized that Johnny is probably his best friend in New York, his roommate Sicheng notwithstanding. It’s kind of driving him crazy that it took him a fake proposal to make him realize this but he still has the image of Johnny’s features radiant under the pink and orange glow of fireworks above them from the night before -- glowing as a smile stretches across his features slowly. (The thought makes his cheeks warm and he presses his face into a pillow to suppress a scream.)

He knows Johnny’s meant to meet Taeyong in the morning and that he was planning to do it over an afternoon stroll. He’s expecting a text any minute, something synonymous to “He said yes!” in however Johnny decides to phrase it in his moment of pure happiness. (Not that Ten expects Johnny to text him first. Obviously there’s a whole line of people who deserve to know before him. Still, he had been the one Johnny had chosen to practice on and that has to count for something, right?)

Ten is sprawled across the sofa, face still half buried into a pillow when Sicheng finds him a few minutes later. “You look stressed,” Sicheng says, rubbing his eyes as he emerges from his bedroom.

“Did you just wake up?” Ten counters, looking up.

“Yeah, who the hell wakes up early on New Years?”

There’s a rustle from the bedroom, an extra set of footsteps padding out as another man walks into the living room clad only in boxers with foxes on them. Sicheng’s eyes go wide as Ten shoots him _A Look_. The man in question spares Ten a glance before grabbing a cup from the sink and helping himself to some water. “Yuta.” He points to his chest before taking a sip. He’s using Ten’s favourite Sailor Moon mug (It’s a black one with Luna’s face in front.) and looks to be unfussed by any of this.

“Ten.” He answers, raising his hand up to give Yuta a small wave. “Like the number.”

“Cool,” Yuta says before Sicheng walks over to push him back into the bedroom, Ten can vaguely hear the other mutter about being told to stay inside. “See you next time, Ten!”

He’s about to answer when he finally feels his phone tremble in his hand, three consecutive texts come under Johnny’s contact name.

 **Johnathan (5:58 pm)  
**Are you home

 **Johnathan (5:58 pm)  
**Open your door

 **Johnathan (5:59 pm)  
**Im outside

There’s a moment of confusion that stirs within Ten as he stares at his phone in disbelief. Johnny… is outside his door? His brain tries to come up with reasons for this, wracking up options to what had happened that would have lead to Johnny coming.

 **Why is Johnny Suh outside his door right now?**  
a) To introduce him to his now fiance and thank Ten for the wonderful proposal idea  
b) To introduce him to his now fiance and blame Ten for the horrible proposal idea  
c) Johnny wants to celebrate his new engagement with Ten and rub it in Ten’s face that Ten now realizes he could possibly have a crush on Johnny  
d) Tell him their friendship is over because Johnny doesn’t need him anymore now that Taeyong will probably be around more often

There are more options, each even more dreadful as the last, and being as someone who writes these on a daily basis, Ten knows it’ll have to be one of them if he really wants an answer. It makes him uneasy -- barely able to move from his spot on the sofa as the seconds tick. Maybe if he pretends he isn’t home Johnny will just leave and never talk to him ever again and Ten can just will himself to pull an _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_ and forget Johnny Suh ever existed.

Almost as if the other man can hear his thoughts, a knock comes to the door along with a faint “Ten, open the door.” His voice sounds tired that it makes Ten expect even worse outcomes. He can barely think straight as he manages to shuffle to the front door, opening it just as Johnny’s about to turn around and leave.

In the dim light of the hallway, Johnny still glows. There is an unreadable expression painted on his features that Ten can’t seem to figure out. He’s not sure if he wants to. Ten desperately wants to run his fingers along his chocolate hair, wants to press a palm against his cheek, and let himself pretend again for a while that things between them aren’t going to change. “Johnny, if you’re here to-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence and doesn’t get the chance to. Johnny instead pulls him into a tight embrace -- his long arms encircling Ten as he nuzzles himself into the smaller man’s neck. “He said no.” Johnny’s voice is muffled. “He cheated on me.”

“Oh.” is Ten’s response. He doesn’t have time to feel relief -- instead, his body kicks into a kind of protective mode as he ushers Johnny into his apartment, allowing him to collapse onto the sofa while Ten makes him dinner.

It’s quiet for a while. Eventually, Johnny falls asleep and Ten is a little bit relieved by this -- not exactly ready to discuss the details of the other’s heartbreak just yet.

Dinner is weird.

If not for the fact that he’s eating ramen noodles with Johnny, Sicheng, and Yuta (who still has not left their apartment nor looks like he has any plans to put on more clothes any time soon). The dining table in his apartment with Sicheng is small, elbows bumping awkwardly into each other as Johnny silently chews on his noodles and Yuta tells them stories about Osaka. (He’s a football player that’s recently been recruited by a local team in New York which _wink wink nudge nudge_ he makes known to Sicheng, who pretends not to notice.)

Ten tries his best to lighten the mood even if at the back of his mind, he’s certain this is the strangest New Year’s Day he’s ever had. “Any plans tonight?” He asks Sicheng as he leans his cheek into his hand.

“Kun has a gig tonight if you wanna go.” His roommate offers. “It’s Carly Rae Jepsen night at the bar. Open mic.”

“Is this the friend you told me about?” Yuta inquires before he slurps down the last bits of his meal. Ten is already oddly endeared.

“Yeah, Ten used to have a huge crush on him.”

Johnny, who’d mostly been quiet throughout, looks up from his bowl as Sicheng says this, nudging Ten curiously before saying “Is it recent?” He feels himself blush. Kun was mostly a fleeting crush -- one Ten is pretty sure he’d gotten over after a few weeks of getting to know him. Kun reminded him of clean-cut lines -- too parallel to Ten in their differences that he’s certain after a while what they’d find new and exciting about the other would turn into irritating habits and nuances they’d find annoying. He’s pretty sure Kun knows this too.

“No, it was forever ago.” Ten frowns, picking at the noodles in his bowl with his chopsticks. “Besides, Kun’s not my type.”

To his surprise, Johnny poses a question at this. “What _is_ your type?”

Sicheng clasps his hands together excitedly (to which Yuta reacts to by pinching the other’s cheek with a small laugh, “Cute!” uttered quietly under his breath.) and grins at Ten. “Yes, Tennie, tell --” he makes a vague hand gesture towards Johnny. “The sasquatch all about your type.” This makes Johnny fall into a coughing fit and Ten has to pat him on the back so he doesn’t choke on some dollar brand ramen on the first day of the year.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Ten blinks as he tries not to meet Sicheng’s eye.

“Can I guess?” Johnny asks.

“Yes!” is Sicheng’s response. Ten sinks in his seat and Yuta laughs.

“What is Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul’s type?” Johnny now grins, the first of today. Ten doesn’t realize how much he’d miserably wanted to see it again until it happens. “A quiz by Johnny Suh.”

(“Who’s the Chitta guy?” He hears Yuta whisper to Sicheng who responds by pointing to Ten.)

Ten leans his elbows onto the table, smiling at Johnny coyly. “Go on then, what do you think?”

“A. Mysterious brooding types that ride motorcycles and seem dangerous at first glance.” is Johnny’s thoughtful first option. Ten makes a gagging noise and Sicheng shakes his head, eyes narrowing slightly. Yuta claps his hands, entertained by the reaction.

Ten is trying not to look at Sicheng. If living with someone for a good three years has taught him anything it’s that at this point, the other can already tell what’s on his mind. They’ve developed a good sense of telepathy now that Ten thinks it’s almost impossible for the other to not catch him in a lie. Sicheng’s probably aware that Johnny is definitely Ten’s type -- he’d be unsurprised if he’d realized it before Ten ever even considered it so he’s certain he’s enjoying this.

“Okay, B. Sexy athletic types much like our new friend Yuta over here.”

“Try again.” Ten rolls his eyes.

“C.”

He raises an eyebrow, remembering Johnny’s words from the night before. “For Chittaphon?”

Johnny chuckles at this. “C for Chittaphon, yeah.” He says with a smile and Ten wants to kind of melt into a puddle. “C. Handsome tall photographers who drag you out for smoke breaks on a freezing rooftop in the middle of winter?”

Ten’s mouth falls open for a few seconds, trying to find the right words in response to this. Does Johnny know? Can Johnny tell _that_ quickly? Ten has always been proud of his ability to hold back on hiding his emotions. He’d realized the crush last night. How would Johnny know?

It’s then that Johnny bursts out laughing. “I’m kidding, Ten.”

And Ten’s lets go of the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. “D, then?” He raises an eyebrow instead.

“Dick.” Sicheng rolls his eyes. “That’s pretty much it.”

Ten throws a chopstick across the table, hitting his roommate on the head. Everyone finds this humorous and he assumes it’s time to move on to another topic.

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out.” Johnny shrugs instead, flashing Ten a small smile. It makes him want to throw up in a weird lovesick kind of way. He glances at Sicheng for a split second who looks _very_ amused by this development.

“So!” Ten says so the conversation no longer lingers. “How about we go to Carly Rae Jepsen night?”

* * *

Ten assumes the only reason Johnny agrees to go is the promise of being able to drown his sorrows inside a few bottles of beer.

Which he does as soon as they get there.

The bar Ten and Sicheng frequent is a short walk from their Brooklyn apartment. It’s a small space called _Automatic_ meant for art shows in the afternoon and transformed for gigs in the evening -- it’s Ten’s favourite place in New York City with its high industrial ceiling and the plants that hang above. The bartender, Xuxi, knows them by name now and slips them a free drink or two if his boss (Irene, who only manages to unclench whenever her fiancee Seulgi is there) isn’t around to hover.

Yuta is visibly more clothed now -- clad in what Ten knows is a fresh shirt of Sicheng’s (an old oversized plaid shirt that says _MILF HUNTER_ on the front that Ten had given him as a joke two birthdays ago) and pants they’d put in the dryer an hour before they had to leave. (He wonders if they’re still a little damp.) His mess of an orange mane is combed back into a ponytail that Sicheng fiddles with as Ten watches them get more drinks from the bar. “Do you think they’re cute?” He nods towards the two, Johnny looks up at him as if he’d already forgotten where he currently was. Ten leans his back against a wall, drink swirling in his hand.

Johnny takes a sip of his beer, the rim of the bottle resting against his lips just before he speaks. “Yuta and your roommate?” He asks, eyeing the two in the crowd. “Yeah.”

“I’d say Yuta has a good chance of sticking around.” Ten sighs. “Sicheng looks fond of him already.” Johnny lets out a small sound of agreement. The moment hangs -- in a crowded bar, it feels as if the two of them are surrounded by an almost deafening silence that Ten can’t quite explain. He wants to know what else to say but the words don’t seem to come. He considers saying sorry for what happened but he knows if he were on the other end of this, it would be the last thing he’d want someone saying to him.

“To a fresh start?” Ten holds his glass (It’s Xuxi’s bonked out version of an Amaretto Sour that he sticks a couple of Sour Patch Kids into that Ten finds he enjoys) to Johnny, shooting him a hopeful look.

To his surprise, the taller man clinks his bottle against it. “Thanks for being here.” is what he manages to say.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not tonight, no.” He shakes his head, gaze far off like he’s barely even _there_.

Ten shouldn’t feel obligated to cheer Johnny up. Ten’s never _been_ a good friend -- aside from living with Sicheng for a few years and being the only person who’s had to deal with his roommate’s messes of flings and obsessed lovers, he’s certain nothing else warrants him to fall into the category of being an actual good friend who knows how to cheer people up when they’re down. Still, he finds himself wanting to be one for Johnny. (Raging crush aside, of course.)

Kun waves at him from the stage, grinning brightly upon finishing his acoustic cover of Favourite Colour. Just then, Ten gets an idea.

“Let’s sing!” He says cheerily before Johnny can protest. His fingers manage to find Johnny’s in the darkness, pinkies lacing together as he pulls Johnny to the empty stage. Sicheng is awestruck in the crowd, confused as Ten lowers the microphone to his height. Johnny looks mostly amused by this development but takes in stride, adjusting the other mic in front of him and eventually just pulling it off the stand.

“What are we singing?” He laughs suddenly, hand covering the top so the rest of the bar doesn’t overhear how impulsive Ten had just randomly decided to be tonight. Which is smart considering Ten hadn’t really thought about that.

“Uh…” Ten says into the mic. He looks unsurely at Johnny before Sicheng yells “ _I Really Like You!_ ” in the crowd and Ten points to him, smiling. “We are singing I Really Like You!”

Johnny sways to the opening notes as the DJ plays the music and Ten is off to a nervous start as he sings and they nod along nervously to the beat. It’s Yuta who hollers in the crowd happily, Sicheng cheering along as they start clapping, and eventually the rest of their audience does too. Johnny is visibly trying to suppress a chuckle while he sings and Ten can’t help but feel the butterflies fluttering wildly in his stomach. Uncertain for a moment if it’s the stage lights or just Johnny’s general presence blinding him a little as he looks up to meet the other’s eyes. The crowd disappears and it’s just _Johnny_ taking his hand, singing _Who gave you eyes like that, said you could keep them?_

 **That’s when Ten knows.  
**a) Johnny is the most handsome boy he’s ever met  
b) Johnny’s the only person who’s ever been capable of making him feel like his heart is about to burst in his chest  
c) Ten is completely and utterly _fucked  
_d) All of the above

* * *

Life slows down a little bit after New Year’s.

Not that Ten is complaining. He’s trapped in countless meetings for the first week of the year -- boring and mindless as their magazine settles into planning their next issue. For a while, things seem to blend back to normal despite Johnny’s significantly deflated disposition. Their rooftop breaks are noticeably quieter and all Ten can sometimes do is watch as smoke from his mouth billows in the cool breeze, disappearing into the air of the city surrounding them.

He doesn’t ask about Taeyong mostly because he thinks Johnny will tell him when he wants to. There’s no obligation to tell Ten so he doesn’t push for one. Instead, Ten tries to fill the days with as many smiles from Johnny as he can manage, flipping notes on to the other’s desk of quick doodles he makes of people around the office like the new intern Sungchan who they’ve both caught on different occasions napping in the broom closet during breaks or their editor Junmyeon miserably pining for one of the lawyers on the floor below theirs.

“Have you ever considered doing this for real?” Johnny asks one day, hovering over Ten’s desk as he holds up the post-it stuck to his finger. It’s a rough sketch Ten had left for on the other’s desk of Johnny laughing under the soft winter sun. An image he couldn’t get out of his head that he’d spent an entire day trying to perfect the way the light had hit the curves of Johnny’s features.

A soft laugh escapes his lips as he feels a blush creep along his cheeks. “They’re doodles, not _art_.” He says breezily. Ten could be honest just this once and tell Johnny he’d thought about it. How he’s always pictured himself creating things with a pen that isn’t just meaningless words that pay to get him by but admitting that out loud to anyone is a little terrifying. “Besides, I don’t have plans to become some sort of starving artist. We live in New York.”

“But that’s exactly it,” Johnny responds. “We live in _New York_.” He makes a grand gesture, leaning his entire body against the edge of Ten’s desk, rattling the little sunflower figurine next to his laptop to almost falling over. “The _land_ of starving artists. The best place to get discovered for literally _anything_.” It’s the first time in a while Ten hears a little bit of life in his voice again and he feels a smile stretch across his lips.

“Maybe.” Ten shakes his head as he crosses his arms. “That’s exactly why I don’t do it. We’re in a city of millions, I’m not the only vaguely talented person who sketches things like that in their spare time.”

“But you’re really good.” So of course this makes his heart jump in his chest.

“Thanks, Johnny.” Ten answers quietly, his cheeks feeling warm as the seconds pass. “I kind of what to travel first, you know? Maybe one day I’ll just leave and go backpacking around Southeast Asia for a bit. Go back home for a while.”

“I’d miss you.” is Johnny’s curt reply, he flashes Ten a small smile but his tone is unmistakably sad.

The words leave Ten’s mouth just before he can think “You should come with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

They celebrate Johnny’s birthday on a workday, a small vanilla cupcake lit between the two of them on the rooftop in February. Slow gusts of wind blowing through the flame that Johnny barely has time to make his wish and they spend way too much time lighting and relighting it until they get it right. ( _“I don’t see why it’s so important!” “It’s a birthday wish, Johnny! You get only one every year!”_ )

Ten gets him a new camera bag that he and Sicheng had picked out together for hours, trying to find the perfect one that would suit Johnny.

(It’s a black canvas one with brown straps, one Ten can imagine Johnny bringing on warm sunny days at Central Park with Yuta and Sicheng.)

“I love it,” Johnny says, fingers tracing the outline of a small sunflower Ten had painted on the top. His tone is genuine, earnest as he keeps his gaze on the bright yellow petals.

“For good days.” Ten smiles, sitting up on the ledge as he clasps his hands together awkwardly. He doesn’t tell Johnny he’s spent too long feeling scared Johnny might hate it, might think it terrible that he’d decided to paint something that could have already been a perfectly good gift.

“It’s always a good day with you.”

Ten rolls his eyes at this, pretends he doesn’t feel like he’s about to burst from the affection.

* * *

Johnny shows up to his apartment more often once the first rush of the year passes.

Ten wakes to the sight of Yuta, Johnny, and Sicheng eating cereal together in the mornings without work, seated together by the tiny dining table as Yuta tells them an outrageous story about his teammate Hansol with the long legs or as Johnny discusses with them a particularly mind-boggling question (One Monday it’s “ _If humans had tails, would it be like rat tails or would they be hairy?_ ” and one Friday night Johnny says “ _Ketchup is a smoothie._ ”) that usually drives Sicheng insane for a few days. It’s strange how well they all fall together like this -- so easily bonded by that one New Year’s day and so quickly it kind of builds from there.

“So you’re not together, right?” Yuta asks Ten one evening while they’re washing dishes. Sicheng has passed out on the living room carpet from a few glasses of red wine and Johnny is noticeably absent tonight -- called for a late-night shoot with some Disney star named Kim Yerim at the Four Seasons.

Huh? “Me and Sicheng?” Ten raises an eyebrow. “Kinda fucked up if I was, Nakamoto.”

Yuta flicks a couple of soap suds at Ten, laughing before rolling his eyes. “No, You and Johnny, _genius_.” He says. “You’re not together, right?”

“He’s just a friend.” is Ten’s response even if he wishes he could say more.

“Who comes over every day.” Yuta deadpans. Ten uses this answer to flick suds back on to him.

“Yeah, so are you! I might have to start charging you for rent, you practically live here.” He rolls his eyes. Yuta has become somewhat of a fixture in their apartment now, acclimating himself into Ten and Sicheng’s home as if he’d always been there. Ten would be lying if he’d said he didn’t appreciate Yuta’s presence -- he’s come to enjoy the sudden loud bursts of his laughter in the evenings and the homemade meals he makes despite the aftermath of a mess in the kitchen. “He’s going through something so getting too into that would be messy.”

“That wasn’t my question.” The other raises an eyebrow.

“We’re _not_ together.”

“But you act like you are.”

“People can hang out as much as Johnny and I do without being together. It’s called being _friends_.” Ten scoffs, handing Yuta the last plate to dry. He peels off the gloves, leaning against the counter casually before nodding towards Sicheng. “What’s up with you two though?”

“Something simple.” Yuta shrugs, looking at the other boy’s sleeping form in the living room. Sicheng is curled up in Ten’s favourite fleece cheetah print blanket on their carpet. Ten watches a soft and fond expression form on Yuta’s features -- adoration evident as he watches Sicheng in his slumber. “We like each other. It’s not deep.”

“Take care of him.” Ten crosses his arms.

“We both know he doesn’t need anyone else to.”

“That shouldn’t stop you.”

Yuta smiles. “Johnny said the same thing about you.” and Ten doesn’t know what he means by that. He’s about to ask when he hears his phone buzzing, Johnny’s special ringtone ( _I Really Like You by Carly Rae Jepsen_ now) echoing in the small apartment loudly and he jumps to answer it.

“Would it be too late to come over?” Johnny asks through the line and Ten’s chest feels tight and fizzy at the thought of seeing him tonight. _It’s just a crush, it’s just a crush, it’s just a crush_.

Yuta is watching him expectantly, a knowing look plastered all over his face that makes Ten roll his eyes. “You shouldn’t if you’re tired.”

“I want to.” Again, he’s _fizzy_ and lightheaded from the answer. “I’m five minutes away.”

“Okay.” is all Ten can manage to utter.

“Sicheng was right,” Yuta says as he sweeps said boy into his arms from the ground. He nuzzles his nose against Sicheng’s hair with a grin -- evidently enamoured by the other -- before he looks back up at Ten, a smirk now on his lips. “You are _so_ fucked.”

* * *

Johnny is noticeably drunk upon his arrival -- loud and booming excitedly into the apartment, grabbing Ten by the waist to spin him around with a flourish. “You won’t believe what just happened tonight.” He says excitedly, his face inches from Ten’s that the smaller boy could almost smell the Moët on his breath, that Ten is almost tempted to lean in to find out if the taste of champagne also lingers on those lips.

“Tell me?” Ten smiles, arms wrapping around Johnny’s neck for support.

“They said they wanna get me for a Vogue shoot next month!” The other boy says in a singsong tone and suddenly they’re both _spinning, spinning, spinning_ , until they’re on the sofa and Johnny’s hovering above Ten, and Ten is trying really hard not to blush.

A thousand options pop into Ten’s head at that very moment, so many possibilities that could change the outcome of what he’d always delicately woven as their friendship. Ten doesn’t know how entwined their lives have become in the past few months -- how his sister now asks him to send Johnny kisses when she decides to check in or how Ten’s managed somehow to flit so casually into the littlest corners of Johnny’s life now from breakfast burritos in Chelsea Market in the mornings to evening dinners with Johnny’s mom whenever she visits from Chicago. It feels so fragile and new even though it’s always been there -- it feels different and Ten isn’t certain if he’s ready to be the one to send whatever illusion of a friendship they have now cracking.

 **Ten could:**  
a) Kiss Johnny right now and get rejected and send the other boy running  
b) Tell the other how he feels and if Ten gets rejected, Johnny can at least pretend he was too drunk to remember anything about it the next day if he valued Ten’s friendship as much as Ten hopes he does

or c) “You’ve had too much to drink.” is what he chooses to say, unclasping his arms from the other boy’s neck. Johnny’s expression doesn’t change -- merely chuckling as he sits up and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Junmyeon treated me out for a few drinks after,” Johnny responds sheepishly, sitting back on his heels -- his side of the sofa sinking deeper. Ten props himself up to face him and brushes his thumb along Johnny’s cheekbone lightly. “That guy drinks really fast and I tried to catch up.”

“Junmyeon’s family owns a vineyard, of course, he can hold his alcohol.” Ten teases, pulling away just as he’s certain Johnny’s about to lean into his touch.

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“He mentions it every time we have a work mixer!” Ten laughs and then, “Pay attention,”

“I _am_ , maybe I’m just paying attention to something more important.” It sounds so earnest and genuine as Johnny says it, their eyes meeting as the words leave his mouth and Ten melts a little and tries not to overthink what he means by that, merely pushing the thought away and excuses Johnny’s intoxication as one of the reasons. Still, he wishes he could find it in him to ask.

* * *

On Ten’s birthday, Johnny gets him helium balloons shaped like stars and clouds, flowing freely in the wind as they stand together on the rooftop. Ten avoids catching his own reflection in the bright golden foil, fearing he’ll realize how brightly he smiles as Johnny says “If you tie your wishes on to all these balloons, you’ll have more than one for your birthday this year.”

“Those don’t just float upwards, you know.” Ten responds, tying a note to the end of a cloud-shaped balloon anyway. “They’ll come back down and some stranger will find my wishes and read them and they won’t come true.”

“You won’t really know that,” Johnny answers, chuckling a little bit as he reaches out help him tie one of the strings. Their fingers brush against each other and he looks up, willing himself a little bit not to blush. “I know it’s cheesy but I like thinking about how endless the sky is. When I was still doing long distance, I liked knowing that no matter how vastly different my life could be from wherever else Taeyong was, I could just look up and think about how despite all of that we both still shared the same skies.”

“Oh,” is all Ten can muster.

“Yeah,” Johnny nods.

A chill makes his shiver as another breeze blows past them and Ten finds himself taking one of the balloons and tying them around Johnny’s wrist. “I’ll tell you a wish if you promise not to float away.” He says.

“Okay, hit me.”

“I wish,” he begins, hand in Johnny’s as he squeezes it reassuringly. “You’d find your happiness this year.”

A brief silence passes through, just the sounds of the city below moving past them. It is then that Johnny squeezes his hand back, taking another balloon to wrap around Ten’s wrist before saying “I hope you don’t mind if I use one of these to wish for the same for you.”

They come back to the office later to tie the balloons on to their respective desks, Sungchan watching them in awe as they float under the fluorescent lights. Johnny’s real gift waits for him on top of his laptop -- a small photobook of Ten on the roof smoking or ones of them together in the apartment with Sicheng and Yuta. He presses it against his chest as he’s filled with a sort of giddiness that he realizes has only ever been Johnny induced, mouths a soft ‘ _Thank you_ ’ across the room that Johnny smiles and shakes his head at.

* * *

Weekends are spent in his room making art. In the early days of Spring, he picks up a brush and locks himself up for hours, trying to perfect a work he’s not even certain is good. He leaves his window open during these afternoons, drawn in by the colours, swirling patterns absentmindedly to the sounds of the city bustling below. Sometimes Johnny comes, long limbs sprawled across Ten’s bed as he huffs for attention and eventually falls asleep until Ten wakes him hours later for dinner.

“Some days I wish you’d look at me the way you look at your work,” Johnny tells him one day, chin in his hands as he looks up at Ten from the bed.

“Like I utterly hate every inch of it and constantly want to toss it in the bin because I’m terrible at this?” Ten offers, not bothering to look up as he paints a spot a bright scarlet.

“No, like you’re so focused on trying to figure it out,” Johnny says. “I feel like I’m not a challenge to you anymore.”

This makes him pause as he sets the brush down, gaze moving to meet Johnny’s. He feels his expression form into one of confusion as he rests his hand on his hip. “I don’t think one could ever figure out the illustrious Johnny Suh.” He explains with a shake of his head. “Maybe I’ve just accepted that I never will.”

“Between you and the rest of the world, I think you have the greatest chance of doing that.”

“And how do I do that?”

“I’m not telling.” Johnny shakes his head and sticks his tongue out. “You’ll know.”

* * *

He sells his first piece to Irene on the first day of Summer.

This isn’t a big deal except Johnny thinks it is so by default Sicheng and Yuta think so too. It hangs on the walls of Automatic -- somewhere down the back where it’s about twelve steps away from the bathroom, lit dimly with two pin lights. It doesn’t mean anything but he lets the support overwhelm him -- allows Johnny to take his hand and spin him around to the sounds of an acoustic cover of a pop song in the background on the first night they look at it in the bar.

“You did it.” He muses, nudging Ten will an elbow. “I told you you could do it.”

Ten rolls his eyes. “It’s a _bar_ , Johnny, not the Met.”

“It’s still _something_.” and Ten knows he’s right so he allows himself to beam with pride for a night. The rest of the world comes muted, in their little corner of Automatic together, Ten and Johnny fit into their little bubble. One where Ten feels safest. He wonders how they’ve come so far from the chilly smoke breaks to now sharing spaces across the city together -- how Ten can no longer think of anything without needing Johnny to hear about it.

He wonders briefly if Johnny will ever think of him as much.

* * *

Seulgi tells him sometimes she sits cross-legged on the ground to stare at it, the details coming to life the longer she watches Ten’s work come to life. So they do that one afternoon -- a fan blowing through loose strands of her long dark hair tied messily into a bun while Ten tries to see what everyone else does.

“I’m leaving next month to travel for the rest of the year,” Seulgi informs him, her eyes don’t leave the painting as she speaks. “Joohyun says it’ll be good for me to travel and learn new things.”

Ten blinks at this revelation. “She’s fine with you leaving?”

“She says it’s so I don’t resent her for keeping me here.” She hums, leaning back a little. “I’ve lived here my whole life. She said I should see the world outside of the city and her.”

Ten thinks back to his conversation with Johnny a few months ago. Recalls how easy and fleeting their relationship had been then, how the thought of leaving him and how even then he’d been hesitant to go without him. “Won’t you miss her?” he asks.

“Of course I will!” She counters, her tone is incredulous. “I feel like if she and I really do love each other, things will be fine once I come back. It’s not like we’re breaking off the engagement. It’s really more like she and I wanna spend some time apart to see how we deal with it.”

“Where are you going?”

“Asia. I’m going backpacking.” Seulgi hugs her knees and finally looks at him, a wicked grin on her features. “I wanted to ask if you might be interested in coming with me.”

“Me?!” He points to himself in disbelief. “Why would you ask me of all people?! Aren’t you friends with that supermodel… Joy? Or the nice lady who runs the cafe next door? Wendy?”

Seulgi lets out a little giggle before gesturing at his work. “I see a lot of potential in your work, Tennie.” She claps her hands together, a determined expression on in her eyes. “I think if you had more inspiration, you’d find more confidence in your art and I wanna help.”

He thinks on this, lets it simmer inside him a little bit as the weight of Seulgi’s words really register to him. He’d always talked about traveling for a bit, always imagined going off to find himself for a while, and Ten knows this is a good opportunity. At the back of his mind, the thought of leaving what he’s found comfort in these past few months linger -- Sicheng in the late afternoons with his hair sticking out wildly, watching Yuta teach kids football in Central Park on Sundays while Ten pretends to read a book on the grass, and _Johnny_.

“I’ve always wanted to travel… to go home…” Ten trails off. “But I’d be leaving everything behind if I go.”

“If the things you’re afraid of losing really mattered, they’d still be here when you come back,” Seulgi says with a nod.

She would be right but Ten knows that often things are fleeting. He tries to imagine what it would be like without Johnny for a bit -- to clear his head, to be free of those quizzes the keep him busy on days when his fingers itch for the stroke of a brush or a pencil. He wonders if the feelings will change if he leaves and if Johnny will find another bed to take naps on in the warm weekend afternoons.

He doesn’t want to admit how much that scares him.

“I’ll think about it.” He tells Seulgi.

* * *

Ten leaves on a Friday night and Johnny kisses him five minutes before he has to board.

Which shouldn’t be as heartbreaking as it is but Ten lingers on the fact that the first just might also be the last. Johnny laces their fingers together in the crowd, head low. Ten can feel his breath warm on his lips, vaguely thinking that Johnny smells a little bit like cigarettes and strawberries. He wishes he could pause the moment -- let it stop just for a little while so he can feel it happening. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now,” Johnny whispers, leaning his forehead against Ten’s. “Sorry.”

“You should be sorry you waited until now to do it.” Ten frowns, near to tears at the thought of leaving him now. Johnny squeezes his hand tightly as if to reassure him.

“I’ll wait for you.”

But Ten doesn’t know if he believes that. Like months before, he still feels how fragile this is -- how brittle and glassy and delicate whatever he has with Johnny. After getting rejected from a proposal, he’s certain this kiss has built up from the fact that Ten has been the only person in Johnny’s life to lean on. Even now, he’s not entirely certain what had happened that New Year’s Day -- he’d never asked and Johnny had never told him.

He feels like he should answer -- give Johnny a little quip about expecting him to do so but words are stuck in his throat and he feels like if he does manage to blurt out anything, it’ll just come out like some kind of messy outpour of months of repressed emotional vomit. Instead, he pushes Johnny’s hair back with a small smile. “Don’t lose yourself in the city.” He tells him just as the final call for his flight is announced. One last kiss is pressed against his lips before he whispers “I’ll see you soon.”

He’s halfway across the airport, rushing to get to his gate when Johnny calls out one last time, “Ten!” He yells.

“What?!”

“We share the same skies!” And it makes Ten’s heart ache even more.

He cries on Seulgi’s shoulder as they take off and wakes hours later to the soft lull of a quiet plane and the evening clouds surrounding him.

* * *

**Johnny ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ (6:06 am)**  
it’s my shoot for vogue tomorrow and i’m a little nervous

 **Johnny ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ (6:06 am)**  
i really miss you  
**Johnny ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ (6:06 am)** can we facetime before?

 **Tennie /ᐠ ̥ ̮ ̥ ᐟ\ (10:09 pm)**  
johnny

 **Tennie /ᐠ ̥ ̮ ̥ ᐟ\ (10:09 pm)  
** im so sorry i missed this there wasn’t any signal where we were

 **Tennie /ᐠ ̥ ̮ ̥ ᐟ\ (10:09 pm)**  
youre at the shoot right now right? how is it?

* * *

Eventually, Johnny’s stories begin to paint new photos of a different life without Ten. Despite being on the other end of emails and messages, he feels himself fade further into the background as he can barely catch up with the newer names as each day passes. Still, he takes comfort in these little check-ins, each ending with _We share the same skies_ like clockwork, serving as some sort of reminder for the both of them on days they feel the distance more than usual.

He’s in his home in Thailand when Johnny calls him one night while Ten is tipsy -- swinging a little on his heels as he sinks into his bed. “I miss you most when I’m drunk.” He admits, voice low and warm as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“Is that a good thing?” Johnny is already laughing at the other end of the line.

Ten wants to tell Johnny he’s in love with him, wants Johnny to know how much the sound of his voice makes Ten’s chest clench in an almost painful way. He’s so full of longing for Johnny that some nights, Seulgi has to hold him back from packing his bags and taking the first flight back. He’s already decided that if Johnny asks, he would in a heartbeat. “Yeah.”

In Ten’s childhood bedroom, he imagines the other laying next to him as Ten tells him stories of him growing up in those four walls. How he’d used to climb the mango trees outside his window in the summers and how the ants would crawl up his leg if he wasn’t careful, how monsoon seasons were noisy and windy and terrifying and how he’d crawl under the sheets with his sister whenever the sound of thunder came crashing outside.

The words at the tip of his tongue and he’s pretty sure one of these days, he’ll just burst and say it. _I love you, I love you, I love you_. He’s certain Johnny probably knows it at this point.

Except, Johnny’s next few words take him by surprise. As if he’d prepared to knock the wind out of Ten with five simple words. “I have a date tonight.”

Just like that, what Ten had always deemed delicate and fragile breaks before him. He’d always assumed it to be his and Johnny’s relationship but it is in that moment does he realize, it had been his heart he was protecting all along.

There’s silence for a moment and Ten doesn’t know what to say. he wants to ask why, why, why but the options forming in his head yet again turn out the opposite of ideal.

 **Why is Johnny going on a date?**  
a) He’s already replaced Ten with someone prettier and nicer and smarter  
b) Ten sucks  
c) He’s never felt anything for Ten and Ten was correct to assume it had only been because he was the only person around after Taeyong and that those affections were terribly misplaced and projected on to him.  
d) Ten isn’t worthy of Johnny’s affections and his pretty proposals and nice photos and shiny rings because he left and he shouldn’t have and maybe if he came back to New York things would be okay again and Johnny won’t go on a date.

He’s sinking deeper into his thoughts that he can barely hear what Johnny says next. He catches a name in the long explanation, _Kim Doyoung_ \-- whose name he recalls from the e-mails for months before. A background name who’s become part of Johnny’s starring cast while Ten had simply become a recurring extra, away from Johnny and his new shiny life without Ten. Do they smoke together on rooftops and share wishes? Does Johnny sleep on Doyoung’s bed in the dreary afternoons? He wants to ask but instead, Ten sighs into his pillow before speaking into the phone. “I should go.”

Johnny can barely utter a reply before Ten hangs up. It’s the last time they speak.

* * *

He finds it’s difficult to rid himself of feelings. He’s buzzed and fizzy in a nightclub in Seoul towards the tail end of their trip, months later. Seulgi kisses him on the cheek, reminding him to let go.

He’s managed to come up with drafts for new works over the months away, one’s Seulgi has decided to curate for the new gallery she and Irene are opening in Midtown when they come back. He knows he’s supposed to feel good but there’s some kind of emptiness that steals him away from the relief of not being a total fake of an artist. He knows it’s the Johnny of it all.

It’s a little bit miserable to be feeling like that while he’s technically meant to be on vacation. The only good thing that’s come of the sadness is the urge to paint and Ten is a little bit excited to come home and lock himself in his bedroom to do just that. (Maybe have dinner with Sicheng and Yuta who often call him in the mornings to demand gifts from wherever country Ten has found himself that week. He’s pretty sure his suitcase is over the allowance at this point and the extra weight will cost him a limb just because he’s bought so much stuff for the two.)

He supposes Seulgi had been right. Things will only stay if they actually matter and he supposes Johnny isn’t one of those things. Which kind of sucks, if he were to be honest.

“You look lonely.” Someone says, his voice is deep and the American accent is palpable. He looks up from his seat on the table, swirling his glass of amaretto sour (not the way Xuxi makes it, sadly) as he meets the strangers gaze looking down on him. He’s pretty in a boyish way. Prince charming like, almost.

“Or I don’t like parties.” Ten quips, eyebrow raised.

“You wouldn’t be dressed like that if you did.” The boy says before he extends a hand. “Jaehyun.” Ten takes it, shaking it a little as he gives Jaehyun a once over.

“Ten.”

“Like the number?” Typical.

“Yeah.” He answers. “You’re American.” Ten observes as if he’s accusing Jaehyun of being some kind of fraud. Jaehyun lets out a small laugh and nods. It reminds him a little of Johnny’s -- musical and soft and comforting.

“I am.”

Jaehyun has deep dimples and curly brown hair and Ten is just drunk enough to allow himself to let go for a night and not think about how much he misses the sound of Johnny’s voice. He pulls Jaehyun down next to him in the booth, smiling a little as he presses a palm to his cheek. “Wanna help me forget about someone tonight?”

The other boy is quick to respond, a slow wicked grin forming as he pulls Ten closer and presses a slow and deep kiss against his lips. Jaehyun tastes like lime and whiskey but Ten wishes for smoke and strawberries.

* * *

They return in late September. Sicheng and Yuta hold up a placard in his name when they pick him up from the airport, decorated obnoxiously with stickers, and what Ten assumes to be paint from his bedroom.

He doesn’t realize how much he’s missed them until they envelop him in their arms and Ten has to hold back a soft sob because it’s kind of embarrassing to feel this emotional around either of them. The two take it in stride, laughing at Yuta’s hand runs up and down comfortingly. “Tennie, come on we hate it when you cry.”

“Shut up.” Ten hiccups, smacking his arm angrily. “I really missed you guys.”

“We missed you too,” Sicheng says. Ten’s face is buried into his chest but he can vividly imagine the eye roll that had come with the admission. It makes him sob a little more.

“We invited Johnn-” Yuta begins but he hears a loud smack which he can only assume is from Sicheng. “Sorry.”

And he appreciates it because Ten hasn’t had a moment to cry while traveling and thinking about Johnny will only bring in another round of tears that he’s held in for months. He isn’t ready yet to face him, to explain the months of not responding -- how his heart still feels that pang of pain at the thought of hearing the other’s laugh again. Ten wants to sink back and sleep in his own bed for a few hours first, to collapse and allow himself to feel everything he’s kept in while away. “Let’s go home.” he sniffles.

Home is the same when he arrives. It smells faintly of cheap noodles and warmth. In the months since he’d left, Yuta seems to have moved in more permanently -- his things littered around the living room now and a new mug (a bright orange Dragon Ball-z one) sits on the kitchen counter as if they’d left just before he could finish his afternoon cup of green tea. He takes it in, tries not to think about nights with Johnny on the carpet or lunches huddled with him on the small dining table.

Ten sighs, turning to Yuta. “I see you’ve made it your own.”

“What? He asked me to move in.” He points to Sicheng, who looks flustered.

“Obviously because I couldn’t pay rent on my own while Ten was off _Eat, Pray, Love-ing_ across Asia.” He says with a frown as he pushes one of Ten’s bags against Yuta’s chest aggressively. Even though Ten knows better. He’s tempted to make a quick quip about this but he’s tired from the flight and he knows he has more time to catch up once he wakes from a long deserved nap.

It’s comforting to know that not much else has changed. He takes one last glance at the two before he enters his room and is overwhelmed with the feeling of being back.

He’ll admit that it’s kind of stupid to hope to find Johnny on his bed, legs sprawled across his bed with the usual teasing look on his features. _What took you so long?_ Ten imagines he would ask but his bed is empty and Ten finds, so is his heart.

* * *

He spends two months painting by himself in his room and time passes quickly enough that Ten barely puts much thought into anything else. Which is a good thing. Mostly.

The days are a routine of breakfast with Yuta and Sicheng and making art with not much else in between. Sicheng says it’s almost a miracle how they manage to take him out of his daze one night to drag him to Automatic. Xuxi is the first to welcome him, loudly announcing the presence of his favourite customer as he pours him a glass of his favourite amaretto sour to celebrate. It makes Ten laugh, flushing a little tint of pink as Kun comes to hug him and welcomes him back.

Ten thinks, he’ll be fine like this if the rest haven’t left yet.

Jaehyun comes by chance -- deep dimples greeting Ten in the dim lighting, a look of surprise on his features as they’ve found each other in another city. “Hey, the number guy.” He grins brightly and Ten can’t help but feel warmth rush up to his cheeks at the thought of their last encounter together. (Warm hands on his skin, his name of Jaehyun’s lips _over and over and over_.) “I didn’t know you were from New York.”

“You didn’t say you were either.” He counters and Jaehyun lets out a deep laugh.

“You’re right.” He concedes. “You get over who you were trying to forget?”

A sigh escapes his lips. “No,” he admits. “But I’m getting better at not thinking about it.”

Just then, Jaehyun leans in to kiss him -- deep and warm and it’s _familiar enough_ that he doesn’t pull away. He feels himself laugh through the kiss, pulling Jaehyun closer in the dim lights as he whispers “That was definitely a little helpful.” The taste of whiskey lingers in his mouth.

“Good.”

“But we shouldn’t.”

The other boy raises a hand. “Friends?”

Ten nods. “Friends.”

Later, after too many glasses and shots later, he isn’t certain if he imagines the little cloud-shaped balloon caught in-between the branches of a tree. Vaguely, he tries to remember why that even matters.

* * *

He hears about Johnny’s break up with Kim Doyoung a few weeks later. Sicheng tells him over dinner about the tumultuous affair that lasted for about a month, rendering Johnny almost useless with heartbreak that he himself had disappeared for a while to “clear his head”.

“He deserved it,” Sicheng says over a few hot bowls of Pho one night. He points his chopsticks at Ten and then raises his hand. “He kissed you at the airport and then decided to date some stuck up agent?”

Yuta coughs. “Not that we’ve met Doyoung.” But guilt is written all over his face that it almost makes Ten laugh.

“You have.” He says, his tone is empty. He’s simply stating a fact. He wants to learn more, to ask about this Kim Doyoung. He’d briefly googled him in his weakest point one night in Cambodia -- he was handsome, dark-haired, definitely taller than Ten, and probably more of Johnny’s type anyway. He’d complained to Seulgi about him for at least an hour before she fell asleep and he had to deal with it on his own.

“Just once,” Sicheng says hurriedly. “It’s not like we enjoyed his company and it was only because we had to get a key lime pie from Trader Joe’s because Xuxi’s new boyfriend apparently loves those and Johnny and Doyoung decided to get them the same thing.”

“We argued about it for at least thirty minutes because we couldn’t possibly show up to the same party with the same dessert,” Yuta adds before slurping down his Pho.

“I’m not upset.” Ten answers. A part of him wants to ask more. Where’s Johnny now? If he’d broken up with Doyoung months ago, why didn’t he call? Why didn’t he decide to show up? Did he care so little for Ten that their fleeting relationship earlier that year stopped mattering at all? Did Ten not even deserve a hello?

“Anyway, chin up. The gallery opens tomorrow. Aren’t you excited?”

Two months and four rushed works of alleged art later and Ten is a little bit excited. Seulgi and Irene’s new venture features Ten’s latest work -- bright and big in the middle as if he’s meant to be the star of the show despite no one in New York knowing his name ( _Yet_ , Irene tells him with a knowing look.) He’s flattered by their belief in him but more so terrified that they might be proven wrong, that his talent will only fail to impress anyone else.

If anything, he’s more nervous than excited but he doesn’t want anyone else knowing that. “I am.” He smiles instead.

* * *

Johnny comes just as they’re setting up.

Hands in his pocket and his hair golden blonde under the sunlight. Ten thinks that even as the sight of Johnny fills him both with anger and sadness, his breath is still a little bit taken away. He looks luminous, almost -- the change of a few seasons good to him while Ten just feels bone dry and weary from his travels. Johnny waves at him from behind the glass window, uncertain if he’s to be received and Ten is hesitant to give him an answer until Seulgi urges him with a quiet “ _Go_ ,” from behind.

“Hi,” The taller boy smiles sheepishly, letting out a foggy breath. “Smoke?”

Ten shakes his head, pushing his own hands into his pockets for warmth. “I quit a few months ago.” He tells him with an apologetic look. “Didn’t really think much of it while I was always on the go.”

“Oh,” Johnny chuckles. “I quit too.”

“So why ask?”

“Bad habit?”

Ten has a million questions to ask, too many thoughts to sort through, but now that Johnny is in front of him now he feels a little bit drunk on his presence again. He can’t seem to think straight or right, can’t seem to remember why it had been Johnny who had hurt him all those months ago. It almost feels surreal that he’s there -- like old times, asking for a smoke. He’s almost certain that he might say yes to a cigarette if he’d offered again. “Is this a bad habit?” Ten asks instead.

“What is?” His tone is curious.

“ _Me_ ,” Ten clarifies with a huff. “Am I a bad habit? Is that why you’re here again?” _Why did you hurt me? Why did you kiss me and pretend you’d wait for me? Was sharing our skies not enough?_

Johnny doesn’t answer, merely keeps walking -- eyes cast down on to the ground as if he’s avoiding meeting Ten’s gaze. “I fucked up. I fucked up and ruined what we had.” He finally admits after a while and Ten should feel relieved to hear that, he’s supposed to feel some kind of weight lifted off his shoulders because it means he hadn’t imagined the kiss or the feelings or everything else. He should feel at peace with the fact that it hadn’t been his fault for leaving, for not being enough.

But Ten just feels sad.

“You did.” He agrees. “I thought you’d wait for me.”

“I wanted to.”

“Why didn’t you?”

But Johnny is quiet and Ten waits for a reaction, for answers. “I thought you’d come back and realize I don’t deserve you.” There is a brief flash of anger that settles into him before it fades away into what Ten realizes is amusement.

Months of doubting himself in different countries, staring into the sky, and yearning for Johnny all boil into him -- he feels it overwhelm him as he tries to figure out what it all means for him now. He’d always seen Johnny as unattainable. Johnny was delicate, fragile, and something that could be taken away any moment because Ten had always thought he’d only been there for him because it was convenient -- not by choice. It dawns upon him now that perhaps, he hadn’t been the only one feeling this -- that in Johnny’s eyes, _Ten_ was the delicate and fragile thing he was terrified of holding on to too tightly.

And Ten can only laugh at this. He throws his head back into a small laugh, stopping in his tracks as he laces his fingers into Johnny’s. “You’re so clueless.” Ten sighs, squeezing his hand tightly. “I have a quiz for you.”

“A quiz?”

“What does Ten feel for Johnny Suh?” He raises an eyebrow. “A, nothing. Purely empty, no feelings whatsoever.”

Johnny shakes his head. “Oh, so it’s an A answer then?” He sighs, his eyes looking sad as they meet Ten’s. “I saw you kissing someone at Automatic.”

“Huh?” Then he remembers Jaehyun’s whiskey lips and the cloud-shaped balloon glimmering in the night that he’d thought he’d dreamt up. “Johnny, I’m not with Jaehyun.” A giggle escapes his lips, hiccuping slightly at the thought. “He was a _fling_. Barely one.”

“Okay…. so B?”

“B, I like you only for the rooftop smoke breaks.” He lifts a finger. “ _Obviously,_ the bad choice here.”

“I’m scared to know what C is then.” Johnny smiles.

“C, I’ve been in love with you since New Year’s.” Ten says with finality in his tone, a smile spreading across his features before he says “C for Chittaphon.”

So Johnny kisses him again just as the snow begins to fall -- pulling him into a deep and earnest kiss that Ten feels twelve months’ worth of emotion kind of letting go. It’s different from the rushed kiss at the airport -- urgent and uncertain as time had begun to tick. This is slow and real and Ten understands finally that perhaps this isn’t delicate.

It’s the only thing that could withstand a year of bumps and crashes, a year of fear and worry. It’s the only thing now that Ten realizes he should have never been too afraid to hold on to.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner,” Johnny whispers against his lips and Ten can only smile, kissing him again and again and again until his own lips go numb.

* * *

On New Year’s, they manage to get Sungchan to sneak them into their old office building.

It’s the same inky black darkness lit by the New York skyline -- busy with chatter and the sounds of the city passing by. Ten is dressed better this time around, clad in a bright coral sweater of Johnny’s he’d stolen from his boyfriend’s closet and a padded jacket that envelops him with warmth. He sits again on top of the ledge -- taking in the lights and the chill. It feels too long ago that Johnny had pretended to propose to him.

The gallery does well and Ten now has cards upon cards of contacts and curators. People want his paintings, his emotions, his vision which is something he’d never thought would happen. Even with Johnny and Seulgi urging him in the past, it feels like a dream that they’d been right all along. Some days, Ten still feels the nervousness and the emptiness of not knowing -- of the fleeting feeling of knowing his worth and skills and not knowing anything at all.

But he’s learning a little to understand.

Johnny does photography for bigger magazines now. High fashion spreads that once gets one of his photos on a billboard in Times Square that they visit with Sicheng (who begrudgingly goes despite his absolute hatred of the place) and Yuta (who gazes up at the lights in awe and gets into a dance battle with one of the mascots).

Things are less fragile but it doesn’t stop feeling new.

“So do it.” Ten says now, echoing words of a year past.

Johnny laughs before he's pressing a kiss to Ten’s lips, untying the string of a cloud-shaped balloon from Ten’s wrist and letting it go. It dances in the air, floating upwards into the stars (one's he can still count with his fingers but he's come to hate it less after being away from New York for so long). Ten feels his worries go along with it, leaving the grievances of the year and dissipating in the air -- ready to burst away somewhere else.

“Did my wish last time come true?” Ten asks Johnny, arms around his neck as the other stands in between his legs. The blonde shoots him a thoughtful look, eyes locking together before his pouty lips spread into a grin. “Did you find your happiness this year?”

“A, no. Sadly.” Johnny shakes his head. “ _Obviously_ the wrong answer.”

Ten rolls his eyes. “B?”

“B, I did while working for better magazines and spreads because now I get to do things I’m proud of.” Johnny answers. “Which is a good answer but not really what I’m going for.”

“Oh?” A laugh. “C then. Our _favourite_ answer.”

“Ours?” Johnny grins. “I like hearing that. Ours. We.”

Ten fake gags but he feels a blush creep along his cheeks, fingers playing with a loose strand of Johnny’s hair and tugging at it before he whines “Tell me what’s C.”

“C, it’s right in front of me.”

So Ten kisses him just as the fireworks go off around them. Once again, crackling loudly as they pop in the sky and illuminate the world around them. Johnny still tastes of strawberries but more often now, he tastes of home and the constant dizzying feeling in Ten’s head. Their gazes meet under the dazzling colours like last year and Ten barely notices the rest of the world, the fireworks, the city. At that moment, it’s still Johnny in the middle of it all.

“I love you.” is what he manages to choke out this time.

“Do you really?” Johnny teases.

So Ten shoots him a look, coy and playful as he smiles. “ _Maybe_.”

“I’ll take it.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted ten to seem like a huge nervous overthinker with impulsive tendencies so i hope that translated well???
> 
> comments and kudos would be greatly appreciated ᕕ༼ •́ Д •̀ ༽ᕗ
> 
> thank u for reading (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ


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